


Unexpected Consequences

by Anilkex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Schmoop, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Prompt:  What if we have a sick Dean stopping by to visit his baby brother, and Jess insists on taking care of him and making him soup and all that jazz?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeeeahhhhh, this was supposed to be more sick than sap, but something happened when I wrote it and it became more sap than sick.
> 
> Still...I like this one. I like to think that this is really how Stanford rolled.
> 
> Disclaimer: Duh.

Dean sat in the Impala and stared at Sam’s apartment building. He’d been arguing with himself for the last thirty miles.

_Just go there...No, get a motel...Don’t be stupid, he’s your brother...But he’s the **little** brother…This isn’t right…_

He’d just finished killing a feisty water spirit, and if the gash in his side wasn’t bad enough, then the cold he was catching was the final straw. Okay, not catching, more like already caught.

He rested his head against the steering wheel; the cool vinyl soothing his too-warm head. He was gearing up to restart the self-arguing when there was a knock on the window. Dean jumped and was reaching for his gun when he realized it was Sam. He sheepishly moved his hand away and rolled down the window.

“Hey…”

“How long were you going to sit in the car? You were supposed to be here over an hour ago.”

Dean coughed and ran a hand down his face. Before he could answer, he saw Sam’s eyes sweep over him.

“Okay, where are you hurt, and how long have you been sick?”

Dean blinked up at him. Sam could still read him like an open book.

Sighing, Dean leaned back against the headrest. “I’m not hurt that badly. I just...really don’t feel well and I was debating whether to bring that into your place.” To emphasize his point, he sneezed twice against his arm. He closed his eyes and wearily massaged them.

Sam crouched down and placed a hand across Dean’s forehead. “What knocked your head to make you that considerate?” he murmured. “Don’t be an idiot. Get your ass inside. Now.”

Dean dropped his hands in his lap and sneezed again. The last thing he wanted to do was face Jess and Sam looking and feeling pitiful. It made him all kinds of uncomfortable and he wasn’t up for uncomfortable. 

Sam was already at the trunk, hauling out his duffel bags. He slammed it shut and walked back to the driver’s side. “Jess won’t care, Dean, you know that. Now come on.”

**xxxxx**

Dean slowly climbed the stairs behind his brother, who was carrying all of his gear. Add insult to injury, Sammy, why don’t you. They finally reached Sam’s apartment. The door was slightly ajar, requiring him to only gently nudge it open so they could enter.

“Sam? Is that you?” Jess called from the kitchen.

Dean rubbed his forehead and thought that if it _wasn’t_ Sam, she was screwed. He made a mental note to remind Sam to never, ever, leave the door ajar again.

“Yeah, it’s me. I brought him up.” Sam dropped Dean’s bags on a chair and closed the door behind Dean.

Jess walked up, wiping her hands on a small towel and smiled at him. “Hey there! What the hell were you doing sitting in your car all that time?”

Sam grinned. “He was losing an argument with himself.”

“Ah...that’ll do it.” Jess laughed.

Dean cleared his throat and smiled. “It’s like I don’t even have to be here. You two just carry on without me.”

That made her laugh harder, and she tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “Come here, and give me a hug.”

She pulled him close and gave a warm hug. Maybe it was the fever or maybe it was the long-assed week he had, but tonight, her embrace felt comforting. He returned the hug, adding an extra squeeze at the end.

When she pulled away, she looked closely at his face. Frowning, she placed a hand on his forehead. “Christ, Dean, you’re burning up!”

“I’m okay, really, just...a...little - ” He broke off, sneezing forcefully. Dean froze for a second, hand over his face. He closed his eyes and sighed. So much for that.

Jess narrowed her eyes at him. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. “Sam - put him in the second bedroom, okay?”

Dean stammered, “No, Jess, it’s okay, I was gonna go to a motel so I don’t...um…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he received a serious Jessica Moore bitchface.

He turned to Sam and said, “Why did you teach her that?”

Sam raised his hands and laughed. “That was all her, dude, I swear. C’mon, let’s get you set up.”

Jess nodded and picked up the discarded towel. She went back to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sam led Dean into a small bedroom, depositing his bag on the small desk in the corner. He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured at Dean’s clothes. “Hey - get changed into something comfortable, and then let me look at your side.”

“How’d you know that’s where I was hurt?”

Sam scoffed, “Seriously, why are you even asking me that? Hurry up, okay?”

As he turned to go, Dean muttered, “I feel like I’m ten…”

Sam paused while he was closing the door and looked Dean in the eye. “You deserve to be taken care of, whether you’re ten or twenty-five. Let us do this for you, okay?”

Dean didn’t know what to say or how to respond, so instead he sighed and nodded. Satisfied, Sam nodded and closed the door.

Dean dragged his hand down his face, and changed into a pair of sweats and a fresh t-shirt. He winced as he pulled it down over the gash in his side. He’d just finished shoving the dirty clothes in his bag when there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened, and Jess poked her head inside. “All decent?”

Dean snorted.

She laughed and walked in. 

Dean sat down on the bed, rubbing his temples. His head was killing him, much more than his side. His throat hurt, his body ached, and he really wanted to lay down.

He felt a cool hand on his face and heard a _tsk_ -ing sound. “Hmmm?” he asked, turning towards her.

Softly, Jess said, “Here - take these.” She pressed two pills in his hand. He stared at them, as if not sure what he was looking at. “They won’t bite, silly. Have some water.” He took a glass from her and swallowed them, grimacing at the pain in his throat.

“Mmmph...thanks.” He gave his eyes one last rub and cleared his throat. Now that he was inside and getting comfortable, he saw no reason to hide how he was feeling. His breath hitched and he sneezed forcefully. “ _Ugh_...God…”

Jess gently ruffled his hair. “Okay, get yourself tucked in bed. Sam wants to check you over himself. I’m gonna go make you some soup in the meantime.”

Dean sniffed and crawled under the covers. “Jess..”

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob, and looked back at him. “Yeah?”

He met her gaze. “Thanks...I don’t...I mean…”

Jess let go of the doorknob and went back to him. She pulled the blanket up and smoothed it over his chest. “You listen to me, Dean Winchester. I love your brother. He loves you. And you know I love you as well. This is your home as much as it is ours. I don’t know what you do or how you end up in more crap situations than the average person, but it doesn’t matter. Sam trusts you, and that’s good enough for me. When you’re hurting, you come here, and we’ll help you. There’s no argument, there’s no fighting. Just...come here.”

Dean didn’t move. He swallowed a couple times, and fought against the tears that threatened to spill.

Sam walked in, carrying a first aid kit. “Hey…”

Jess stood straighter and flashed a smile at Dean. She quickly wiped at her own eyes and patted his arm. Sam looked at her questioningly. She gave him a small shake of her head, stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to make some soup,” she whispered, and left.

Sam watched her go, then turned back to his brother. “What was that about?”

Dean looked down at the blanket. “That’s one hell of a girl you got there, Sammy.”

Sam huffed a laugh and set down the kit. “You’re telling me. Lift up your shirt so I can check your side.”  
 **xxxxx**

Sam patched him up - only a few stitches needed - and Jess was none the wiser. Dean pulled his shirt down and settled back against the pillow. Once Sam put all the supplies away, he sat next to Dean on the bed.

“How’re you feeling?”

Dean shrugged and coughed. “Crappy.”

Sam breathed a laugh. “What were you hunting, anyway?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Frickin’ water sprite. It was stupid.”

“Yeah, well, stupid enough to slash your side.”

“No… _I_ was stupid. I wasn’t feeling well, and I followed the thing into a lake anyway. Wasn’t at my best.”

Sam sighed. “That’s what scares me, man. You keep doing that, and Dad’s not there to watch your back.”

Dean rubbed both eyes with the heels of his hands. “Sammy - no lecturing - okay? At least not tonight. Please?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond when Jess walked in carrying a large mug. Tendrils of steam rose from the mouth, curling in the air.

“Hope chicken noodle is okay - I think it’s kind of standard fare when you’re sick, right?” She smiled brightly and placed the mug on the table next to the bed. She pulled a thermometer from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Alrighty. Open up.”

Dean lolled his head back and looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. 

“Hey - if you’re good, you get a lollipop. Shaped like a cough drop. Minus the stick.”

Dean laughed at that and with a small shake of his head, opened his mouth. She stuck the device under his tongue and winked at Sam. “I’ll go get his treat. Take it out if it beeps, okay?”

Sam nodded as she left the room once more. He didn’t say anything, just scooted further onto the bed and leaned across Dean’s legs. Dean didn’t say anything either, trying not to move the thermometer with his tongue. He relaxed against the pillow and closed his eyes.

He still felt stupid. But why did he feel stupid? For having people who cared for him? For being taken care of when he needed it? 

Did he even _know_ when he needed it?

The thermometer beeped, and Sam obediently took it out. “One-hundred-one. Looks like you’re stuck here for a few days.” He didn’t ask Dean to stay, and didn’t ask Dean if he wanted to stay. He simply told him that he was staying, and that was that.

_When the child becomes the parent…_

Dean cautiously opened one eye as Sam set down the thermometer and rearranged the blankets.

When Jess returned, Sam reported, “One-hundred-one. And he behaved.”

Jess handed over a cough drop. “Looks like you’re stuck here for a few days.”

Dean chose to stay silent. Part of him wanted to get up and bolt, the other part, a larger part, didn’t necessarily like being taken care _of_ , but liked that he was cared _for_. He simply nodded and took the medicine.

Jess seemed to sense Dean’s discomfort with the attention, and gestured to the mug. “See if you can drink that - I bet it’ll help your throat. I’ll just leave you two alone...call if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Jess,” Dean rasped.

She smiled, “Anytime.”

She shut the door behind her so the brothers could have some privacy.

Dean fiddled with the cough drop, smoothing out the cellophane wrapper between his fingers. Sam nudged his legs. 

“What’s going on in there?”

Dean shook his head with a laugh. “I dunno, man. The gears are rusty.”

Sam chuckled and handed his brother the mug of soup. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case.”

Dean took it, and blew on the liquid inside. “Yeah, well. Sometimes that’s how it feels.” He tentatively took a sip, and found it not as hot as it appeared. He took a decent sized swallow and sighed as the warm liquid soothed his sore throat. 

Sam smiled. “It’s really good to see you.”

Dean peeked at him from over the top of the mug. He took another swallow, and again, almost moaned at how good it felt. “Dude, it’s only been three months.”

Sam huffed. “So what? I went from every day with you to not every day with you. Three months feels like a lot.”

“Sam...you’ve been at school for two years, and I see you every holiday and some weekends in-between.”

“And you missed me, too, these last few months, so shut up.”

Dean paused at that. He _had_ missed Sam. There wasn’t anything different about the last three months than the twenty-four before them, but this block of time just felt really… _long_.

He made a face indicating he grudgingly agreed, and Sam actually gloated a little. Dean’s eyelids were feeling heavy, and he yawned right in his soup. Sam laughed and took the mug from him, placing it on the dresser.

“It’s time for this little hunter to get some sleep in a bed that doesn’t have crappy blankets and lumpy mattresses.”

“Mmmm...be careful. I may make this my base of operations.”

Sam looked serious again. “And that’s supposed to be a threat?”

Dean looked up at him. “Sammy…”

Sam huffed and patted Dean on the legs. “No lectures. Get some sleep. Let us know if you need anything.” He gave Dean’s leg one last squeeze before leaving the room.

**xxxxx**

Dean stayed put for the next couple days with minimal objection. He did feel awful, and if he had to hole up somewhere, Sam’s was definitely a good place to be. Jess went out of her way to make sure he was taken care of, and any attempt on his part to minimize her efforts was rejected. 

Dean had to cope with the crazy notion that they cared for and about him, and honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

On the third day, his fever was pretty much gone, and the congestion was less. John texted with yet another urgent hunt where millions of lives hung in the balance and Dean was needed immediately to help purge the evil. It was probably just an angry spirit in an old house, but with John, the two scenarios held equal importance.

When Dean broke the news that he was leaving once Sam got home from class, Jess stood in the bedroom doorway with her arms crossed, watching him pack up. 

She was pissed.

“You can’t leave yet - you still have a fever.”

“Ninety-nine degrees is that gray area of feverness.”

“Gray is still something.”

“I’ve worked with worse. I’ll be fine, Jess.”

“You’re still blowing snot every two minutes.”

“Mmm-hmm. Kleenex helps with that.”

“And you’re coughing. And sneezing. How are you gonna work with that?”

Dean zipped up his duffel and sat on the bed, facing her. To his surprise, she looked about to cry. “What is this really about, Jess?” 

Jess blinked at him and sighed. She moved across the room to sit next to him on the bed. “I don’t want you to go.”

Dean huffed, “I gathered that. But I think there’s more going on here.”

She bit her bottom lip and twirled the ends of her hair around her fingers. _She’s nervous_ , Dean thought, watching her.

“Jess…”

“I don’t like that you feel you need to keep moving, even when you can’t. I don’t like that you feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. I don’t like you working when you’re sick. I don’t like that you don’t have a home. I don’t like how Sam and I worry about you all the time.”

The verbal diarrhea caught Dean off-guard. He was expecting her to say something about how he was too sick to work. He wasn’t expecting the outpouring of emotion and insight that came with it. Dean stammered, “Um...okay…”

A couple tears slid down her face and she impatiently wiped them away. She wasn’t quite finished with her list, so she continued in a rush. “I also like having you here. I like how your being here makes Sam happy. I like knowing that you’re safe when you’re here. I like...” She paused for a second, the continued in a small voice. “I like having a big brother around.”

Dean’s eyes widened a little at that. He was having a hard time processing everything she said, and that last one packed a punch. With Sam, there weren’t emotional discussions, unless the emotion was anger, frustration, and incredulity. He didn’t know how to respond - she said _so much._

“Jess - I’m home!” Sam yelled from the back door. “You here?”

Jess leaped up and practically ran from the room, leaving Dean sitting there, feeling simultaneously guilty and touched. He could hear the two lovebirds talking in low voices...Jess slightly hysterical and Sam resigned and calm. 

Sam knew the drill. He understood why Dean had to leave. He didn’t like it, sure, but he understood. Why didn’t that make Dean feel better about it?

Dean grabbed a Kleenex and sneezed into it. He sat still, the Kleenex balled in his fist, and really took stock of how he felt. He thought about what Jess said. He thought about his life.

With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone, and sent John a quick text.

Sam appeared in the doorway, wearing the patented Sam Winchester Bitchface. It melted off when he saw Dean turn off his phone and remove his jacket.

“Hey…”

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Hey...um. I’m, uh, still feeling pretty crappy. If it’s still okay, I’d, um, like to hang around until I shake this.” He sneezed again into the balled up tissue. It wasn’t planned, but the timing was pretty good.

Sam huffed a smile. “Of course - you can stay as long as you want.” He looked a little confused at the change in plans, but he didn’t question it.

Dean nodded, averting his eyes, and crawled back into bed. “Thanks, Sammy. For everything. I’m, uh, gonna take a nap.”

Sam nodded, “Sure...okay. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

Dean nodded in return, and curled into a ball under the blankets. Sam quietly closed the door, and Dean eventually fell asleep.

**xxxxx**

He woke to someone carding their fingers through his hair. The motion was incredibly soothing, especially since it felt like his fever was up again. It was a nice combination of feeling good on a physical level coupled with feeling good because someone cared enough to _make_ him feel good.

Peeling open one eye, he saw a slightly fuzzy Jess on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair and humming.

“Go back to sleep, Dean. We’ve got you.”

Warmth spread through him that was definitely not from the fever. He closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

==end==


End file.
